


Night in the Forest

by Beleriandings



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, actually more like implied Maglor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-25
Updated: 2013-09-25
Packaged: 2017-12-27 15:21:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/980486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beleriandings/pseuds/Beleriandings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elrond fosters young Estel in Imladris. But one night he wanders away into the forest...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night in the Forest

Elrond sighed, closing the notebook on his writing desk. He should go to bed soon, he knew. The candle was burning low, and the pale glow of dawn was starting to seep through the window. Suddenly he became aware of a shuffling sound at the door, which stood ajar. As he turned to look it closed quickly. Smiling a little, he crossed the room and opened it fully. There stood a small dark-haired child, who looked down at his feet guiltily, refusing to meet Elrond’s gaze.

“Estel! What are you doing out of bed at this hour?”

Estel sniffed and looked up at Elrond. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Oh dear. We can’t have that, can we? Come on, let’s get you back to bed. I’ll tell you a story, if you want.”

He brightened visibly. “I’d like that!”

Taking Elrond’s hand, Estel trotted alongside him as they made their way to back to his bedroom.

Elrond picked the child up, setting him in the bed and tucking the covers around him with an expert hand. He sat down on the edge of the bed himself. “Now. What sort of story would you like to hear?”

Estel thought for a moment. “Umm… I want the story that was in that book you were reading, just now. It must have been a good story, for you to stay up so late reading it!”

Elrond frowned a little. He had been trying to write down what he remembered of Maglor’s poetry and the words of his songs. But he was not sure that he trusted himself to speak about it, not with Estel. Not when the child was so young, at any rate.

“What? Ada, what’s wrong? Is it a very sad story?”

Elrond smiled. He had forgotten how perceptive Estel could be sometimes.

“It’s not a story. It’s some poems and songs that I remember from when I was a child. It was my own father who wrote them. Well…” he checked himself. Estel was a talkative child, and Elrond knew there were still a few people in Imladris that would raise an eyebrow if they found out that he regarded Maglor as his father. “…I mean, he was not my true father. But he was kind, and he looked after me.”

Estel considered this for a moment, solemnly. “Do you mean like you look after me, because I don’t have a father?”

Elrond’s hesitation was almost imperceptible. “Yes. Just like I look after you.” _Not yet_ , he thought.  _I’ll tell him everything when he’s older._

But Estel was not dissuaded. “Where is he? Did he die? Is that why it made you sad?”

This was not a conversation that Elrond wanted to get into now. “No… no he isn’t dead. He was… lost. No one has seen him in a very long time.”

Estel looked shocked. “Oh, that  _is_  sad. Please don’t be sad, Ada. Maybe someone will find him one day?” Estel wrapped his small arms around Elrond, as if to comfort him.

Elrond forced himself to smile, stroking the child’s hair. “Maybe, maybe. Now go to sleep little one. I think it’s far too late for a story now, anyway.”

Estel sat back, looking crestfallen. “Aaaw. Can you tell me one tomorrow, then? Or sing me one of your Ada’s songs? The ones you were writing down?”

“Of course I can. But only if you go to sleep quickly now.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

Estel yawned widely. “Goodnight, Ada.”

“Goodnight, Estel.”

 

The next day Elrond spent in his study again. It was evening, and the sun was beginning to sink beyond the edge of the valley. Suddenly there was a knock at the door, sharp and urgent.

“Come in?”

The door opened, and Gilraen stood there, worry clouding her gaze. “My lord Elrond. Estel is gone! The last I saw of him was this morning, and no one else can recall seeing any trace of him all day! We have looked all around the house for him. Can you get some people to search the valley?”

Elrond’s face was grave. “Of course.” It would be dark soon, and though the valley was safe from orcs, it would be all too easy for a child to slip in the dark, down one of the steep cliff faces or gullies… and if Estel had left Imladris… Elrond did not even want to think about that. He fidgeted uneasily with the ring on his finger, a nervous habit. “I will go and look for him myself, with Glorfindel and maybe a few others. Don’t worry, Gilraen” he placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder “we will find your son. That is, if he hasn’t come back of his own accord soon enough.” He spoke confidently, but these were dark and troubled times, and it was hard to be certain of what was safe anymore.

Half an hour later, he was walking through the woods skirting the outer edge of the valley. He shivered slightly in the cold evening air. A lantern was in his hand, surrounding him in a golden orb of light. The searchers had split up to cover more ground before nightfall, but it was starting to get dark very quickly now, the trees fading to vague black outlines. He realised that this would be more difficult than he had thought. For several hours he searched, listening to the quiet sounds of the forest at night, sometimes calling out softly. It was fully dark now, but for the occasional glimpse of stars through the canopy above, and it was very cold. He was only just outside the borders of Imladris, but certainly far enough to be nervous. The lantern would go out soon, he knew, and then he would have to turn back. Just as he was about to resign himself to continuing the search in the daylight, he saw a flicker of movement in his peripheral vision, a patch of dark that was not the same as the blackness of the trees and undergrowth. He turned sharply, but it had already vanished. Had he imagined it? It had looked like a figure, although it was certainly difficult to tell. A deer maybe? It had been too silent to be an orc. He frowned, turning to roughly where he thought he had seen it, holding his lantern higher. There was something there, on the ground under a tree… a dark bundle. He padded towards it, holding his breath without quite knowing why.

It seemed to be quite large, and was blanketed by a heavy woollen cloth. It was a cloak, Elrond realised. Hesitantly, he lifted a corner of the fabric… and let out the breath he had been holding. There was Estel, curled up on the ground and sleeping peacefully. Relief flooded over Elrond as he lifted the child. As he started to walk back to Imladris, Estel stirred. “Ada” he said sleepily. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t find him.”

“Find him? Find who, little one?”

“Your Ada, the one you were telling me about yesterday. The one with the songs, that you said got lost. I heard someone singing in the forest, and I thought about what you said. So I went to look for him. I didn’t want him to be sad, all alone. But I didn’t find him. I got lost, and it was dark. And then I got so tired, and I fell asleep. I was scared though. I’m glad you came to find me.”

Elrond was so taken aback that he forgot to be angry. He remembered all of the days he himself had spent searching, and wondering why, and never finding what he sought in either case. It had been long ago. He had thought the pain would be less now.

For a while he didn’t know what to say. Then he sighed. “Hush now Estel. You won’t find him, not like this. Go to sleep now, we’ll talk about it in the morning.”

But Estel was already asleep in Elrond’s arms, head falling heavily on his shoulder, hands clasping fistfuls of the heavy woollen cloak that he was still cocooned in. Only then did Elrond remember the cloak. It was certainly too large for a child. The thick fabric was rough, and the garment was patched, worn and weather beaten. He touched the wool. It was completely dry, although the ground and Estel’s other clothes were damp.  _Had Estel taken it from Imladris when he left, or…_ no. It was not possible. Was it? Elrond stopped walking, peering through the trees and trying to will his vision to pierce the gloom. Then he closed his eyes, listening. Nothing. He opened his eyes, blinked a few times, and started to walk again. What was he thinking? He had given up any hope of seeing Maglor again long ago. And the evidence was scanty, at best. A shape in the dark, a battered old cloak, and the word of a sleepy child that he had heard someone singing in the forest? It was hardly much to go on. And yet… Elrond shook his head. He would have a lot to think on tomorrow, he knew. But for now he hoped that the line between dreams and reality would seem clearer in the morning.


End file.
